Awkward as Hell
by Rosawyn
Summary: When Clint's boss tells him to keep a customer "happy," what the customer wants turns out to be a bit outside his job description. He's a waiter; he shouldn't have to put up with this.


**Awkward as Hell**

Clint Barton was about three hours into his seven-hour shift—mentally cursing his stupid feet for _already_ hurting with each step, but reminding himself at at least he didn't have to do a split shift, because whoever invented that horrible concept needed to be taken out and shot—when Jasper, the manager, pulled him aside. "We've got a reservation this evening, important customers, and I want you to take care of the table."

Clint nodded. "Sure." This was his job, after all.

Jasper nodded slightly in response, the lights reflecting off his glasses and bald head. "They'll be in the private dining room. Five in the party, but the ones you have to worry about are the Odinson brothers: Thor and Loki." He pulled out his phone and showed Clint a picture of the two men—one blond and bearded, the other dark-haired and clean-shaven—laughing together. "Well, obviously, keep the whole table happy, but those two are the most important; the family is rich and powerful—influential." He exhaled, looking down, then met Clint's eyes again. "I'm putting lot of faith in you, Clint. I could get someone else—I could have Grant do this, or Maria—but I think you're best suited to the job. Don't let me down."

There was only one right answer to that. "Of course, sir."

Jasper slapped Clint on the arm and gave him an approving smile. "The reservation's for seven, and you'll be serving that table exclusively for the duration of their stay. Good luck."

o0o

At twenty minutes after seven, the Odinson party arrived: two women and one man in addition to the oh-so-important brothers. Normally, it was restaurant policy to hold reservations for just ten minutes past the specified time, but Jasper had made it clear this one would be held all night if need be.

Jasper personally showed the party to their table, then nodded to Clint who promptly approached to introduce himself and offer to start them off with drinks. It seemed it was a very alcohol-oriented evening, the blond Odinson ordering a pitcher of beer and insisting loudly that it be refilled at regular intervals, the red-haired woman ordering a vodka martini, and the blond man who wasn't an Odinson—and also not quite as blond as the blond Odinson—ordering a glass of red wine.

While Clint was at the bar filling his tray with their drinks, Jasper came up to him and leaned near his ear to say, "Everything going well so far?"

"Yeah." Clint nodded as he poured the wine. "Everything's fine. Just getting everyone's drink orders."

"Good." Jasper smiled, approving. "Just remember: keep them happy."

It seemed slightly ominous for all the smiling, as if Jasper was concerned something might in fact go wrong, but Clint just nodded.

o0o

Clint set the drinks on the table, remembering exactly where everything went—he was usually pretty good at that. And really, it was just two actual drinks and some glasses to go with the pitcher of beer. Not exactly complicated.

"Oh, could I get red wine as well?" the dark-haired woman asked, offering him an apologetic smile.

Clint smiled back. "Sure thing." He made a note on his pad then looked back up at the group. "Did you need a few more minutes with the menus, or were you ready to order? I can start you off with some appetizers if you'd like..."

The dark-haired Odinson pushed his menu away with a careless hand. "Oh, the menu won't be necessary." He turned his attention—and a decidedly hungry expression—on Clint then pitched his voice low and purred, "I know exactly what I want."

The two blond men laughed openly and the dark-haired woman ducked her head slightly to disguise her own amusement. The red-haired woman, a little surprisingly given the company, just looked completely unimpressed.

"Oh really?" Clint feigned innocence, holding his pen and pad at the ready, an expectant expression on his face.

The dark-haired Odinson gave him an indulgent look, laughing softly. "I'm Loki," he said. "And _you_ are _delicious_."

The blond brother—clearly Thor—laughed again. "You'll have to forgive my brother; he is a little...strange."

Loki turned to raise an eyebrow at Thor. "Oh, is that what we're calling it now?" Turning back to Clint, he made a gesture with his hand that was probably meant to appear gracious—like some noble or royal granting a boon to a peasant. "I'm sure my companions here would like to order some food, so please: don't let me hinder you."

As Clint took their orders, starting with Thor—who apparently wanted the biggest and most meat-filled thing on the menu—and working his way around the table, Thor leaned near his brother to admonish him, "You need to eat as well, brother."

"Nonsense; I'm not hungry." Loki's eyes followed Clint, though, filled with an entirely different sort of hunger. "Besides, the beer is very filling."

While that was technically true, Clint couldn't exactly support the decision to make a meal of it. But it wasn't his place to offer unsolicited dietary advice.

Well, not until Thor turned to him and said, "Please, tell my brother he needs to eat."

So Clint looked down and Loki and complied: "You need to eat; everyone needs to eat."

Loki looked positively thrilled. "Oh, he's adorable," he said to Thor. Turning his attention back to Clint, he said, "You're adorable."

Clint tried to smile, knowing it looked somewhat unsure and probably a lot confused. "Thank you." He paused for a moment. Everyone other than Loki had given their orders. "So, can I get you anything, sir?"

Loki rolled his eyes theatrically. "Call me Loki. Please."

Clint breathed in and out slowly and quietly. "Can I get you anything, Loki?"

Loki looked even more thrilled. "Yes, I'm sure you can." He giggled, and the others laughed—well, except for the redhead who rolled her eyes. Then Loki spoke again, "Just...get me whatever you'd recommend. Whatever's your personal favourite."

Okay, Clint could do that. But of course he'd need to confirm that a chicken Caesar salad with added cucumbers and feta cheese was okay, especially, well, considering. "So a—"

"No," Loki cut him off. "Just bring it to me; I want it to be a surprise."

"All right then." Clint nodded and finally made his escape.

Well, temporary escape, since of course he was going to have to go back.

o0o

"How's the 'special' table?" Maria asked as Clint was getting the dark-haired woman's glass of wine at the bar. She was assembling an impressive tray of drinks for one of her own tables.

"It's..." Clint said. "Well, it's _special_."

She offered him a sympathetic smile as she added a wedge of lime to the edge of a glass. "If there's anything I can do to help..."

He shook his head, offering her a smile in return. There really wasn't anything she could do, and she had her own tables to worry about. "I'll be fine; I can handle it."

o0o

When Clint brought the dark-haired woman her wine, Thor asked, "Are our appetizers not yet ready?"

"Not just yet," Clint replied.

"I think _my_ appetizer is ready," Loki said, catching Clint by the wrist.

The blond men laughed. The dark-haired woman smiled into her glass of wine. The red-haired woman glared at Loki.

Clint looked down at Loki's hand on his wrist. He needed to keep this man happy, but...the guy was touching him. That wasn't exactly in his job description. Well, it wouldn't be the first time a customer had grabbed him, but still. "Sir," Clint tried.

"Loki," Loki corrected, voice soft.

Clint tried very hard not to sigh or grit his teeth. "Loki," he tried again. "Could you please let go of me?"

Loki looked as though he were considering the request. "And why should I do that?"

"I have a job to do." While it was technically true, he didn't have any other tables since Jasper had wanted him focused on this one and their demanding whims.

Loki waved his other hand dismissively. "Oh, I know how this works; your manager will have you assigned exclusively to us." Damn it. It really didn't help that the asshole was very aware of how very important he was.

"That is true," Clint admitted. "But your appetizers will be ready soon."

Loki glanced at his brother then back at Clint. He let out a longsuffering sigh. "I suppose I'd better not get between my brother and food," he said, finally releasing Clint's wrist.

The blond man who wasn't Thor laughed and the dark-haired woman grinned, shaking her head. Thor himself just smiled broadly.

Clint took a step back. "I'll get you a refill on your pitcher too." The one they had was very nearly empty already.

"Attentive," Loki said, eying Clint as though he had done something impressively sexy. "I like that."

o0o

When Clint returned with the appetizers and full pitcher, he was greeted by Loki's bright smile. "My sweet one returns."

Clint tried to ignore him, glancing around the table. "Can I get anyone any more refills?"

"What you can do," Loki said, "is come here." He caught Clint by the belt loop this time and gave an unexpected tug that had Clint stumbling a step closer before he could regain his balance. By that point, Loki had one hand on each of Clint's hips.

Clint stared straight ahead. "I'm going to have to ask you to let go of me, sir."

"And I'm going to have to ask you...again," Loki countered, "to call me by my first name." Loki's fingers slipped under the hem of Clint's shirt, finding skin.

Clint inhaled sharply. "Loki." He was getting sick and tired of saying that name. "Please let go of me."

Loki's hands stayed where they were. "I love the way you say my name."

"Get your damn hands off him, Loki!" That was the redhead. And she was angry. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Loki's hands finally fell away, and Clint took a step back without even thinking about it. He resisted the urge to leave at a full run. And the urge to punch Loki, reminding himself that would lead not only to losing his job but to getting arrested.

"Ah, my dear lady," Loki said. "I didn't mean to offend." Was he honestly apologizing to _her_?

Clint was so furious he could barely see. "Can I get you anything else right now?" His voice was stiff.

"No, uh, that's fine." Thor cleared his throat, an apologetic look on his face. "We're all fine for now."

Clint made his retreat. He managed not to run. He managed not to smash or even throw anything. He managed not to punch the wall.

Part of him was worried that he'd upset Loki, that Jasper might even fire him, and part of him was irate at himself for actually caring about either Loki's or Jasper's opinions.

"Hey, um, Clint?" He turned around to see the red-haired woman from the Odinsons' table. She couldn't have read his name tag, since he'd been facing away from her, so she must have actually remembered from when he'd introduced himself earlier—for a customer to actually remember his name was exceedingly uncommon.

He blinked in confusion then finally managed to say, "Uh, yeah." He tried for his courteous smile. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Her eyes were gentle, the set of her mouth sympathetic. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, sure, I, uh..." Clint resisted the urge to scratch awkwardly at his hair—he'd need to wash his hands again if he did, and he'd just _done_ that after leaving the Odinsons' table. "Not—not exactly the first time a customer got a bit...flirty." It was actually the first time a customer had pushed it to that extent, but it was also the first time a manager had specifically instructed him to keep a customer 'happy.'

She nodded, and there was understanding in her eyes. "Loki's basically an ass most of the time. And he gets away with it, because Thor thinks he can do no wrong." She paused then laughed ruefully, looking away. "I was going to say I'm Thor's friend—and Sif's—but I guess I don't really need to make excuses for why I'm associated with him." She shrugged, meeting his eyes again. "I mean, this isn't about me."

"I, uh, kinda wish it was," Clint found himself blurting. Looking down, he willed his stupid face to stop blushing. Glancing up again, he saw her raise an eyebrow.

"Look," she said, "I can talk to Thor and make sure you don't get in trouble with your boss or anything. And if you wanted to switch tables with one of your co-workers, well, I think that would be okay too."

Clint let out a breath, thinking of Maria and Grant and the others on shift that night. It really wouldn't be fair to them. He shook his head. "Nah, I'll be okay." He could be professional. This was his job, after all.

She nodded again and turned to leave.

"Wait," he said then laughed a little, awkwardly, as she turned back. "I just wanted..." _Your phone number_. Right, that'd be real smooth. "To thank you." He bit his lip. "And I guess I feel a bit off balance since you know my name, and..." It would be great if he could make his mouth stop talking sometimes. It was _normal_ for customers to know his name when he didn't know theirs; it's why he wore a freaking name tag.

But she took pity on him. "Natasha."

He was smiling, probably looked like a lovestruck puppy. "I should—" He pointed with his thumb towards the kitchen. "Your food should be ready soon."

Her smile was... He couldn't decide if it should be illegal or if it should be mandatory. "Then I suppose I should get back to my table."

"Yeah," he had to agree. "I guess."

"I guess I'll see you there." Her expression was soft, playful, and kind.

It really was too bad asking for her phone number would have been awkward as hell.

o0o

**A/N: The other blond guy at the table is meant to be Fandral.**

o0o


End file.
